


(Not) Sorry

by tunglo



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: M/M, Sex Pollen, Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-23 15:07:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11992272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tunglo/pseuds/tunglo
Summary: This isn't right - but he can't pretend he hasn't imagined it.





	(Not) Sorry

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fingalsanteater](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fingalsanteater/gifts).



This isn’t right, Alfred knows that. This isn’t something they’re going to be able to sweep under the carpet come morning, the scent of sex still heavy in the air as they both pretend nothing untoward happened between them.

He can’t pretend he hasn’t imagined it though. Perhaps not this, exactly, his blood boiling with need and the entire world fuzzy at the edges, but him and Bruce. Bruce and him. That’s not exactly an unfamiliar concept.

It’s the kind of thing that keeps him awake in his lonely bed, his gut twisting even as his hand wanders. The pledges he once made to the boy’s parents ringing in his ears, even as he pictures Bruce at his side, fingers tentative where they replace his own.

“Alfred,” Bruce breathes in the present, eyes dark and cheeks flushed like something straight out of his late night fantasies, “What’s wrong with me?”

For a moment it’s too much. Too close to how things once were, Bruce so very young and so very vulnerable, and Alfred has to look away. Has to take a step backwards, panic rising, but then Bruce is stepping forward with him.

Is reaching out for him, confused but not unknowing, and Alfred is hit all over again by just how much Bruce has changed over the last few years. Bruce is taller than him now, almost, and though he has always known his mind, these days it comes with a kind of calm confidence it took Alfred a lot longer to acquire.

“There must have been something in that spray,” Alfred says redundantly, in answer to Bruce’s original question, “some kind of stimulant.”

Bruce doesn’t say a single word in response. Doesn’t even hear him, maybe, preferring simply to take another step forward, and then another, until Alfred’s back is against the wall and his heart is hammering frantically in his ears.

Until it’s a struggle to draw enough breath. Impossible to think clearly. He just wants - _needs_ \- and Bruce is in the same predicament. Must be because one moment they’re staring at each other, lost in the intensity of the situation, and the next Bruce’s mouth is on his, all wet heat and eager determination.

They’re not mentor and pupil in this moment, nor are they master and servant. They’re equals, two adults desperate for each other, and Alfred can’t begin to hide what it means to him. Can’t hold back or take it easy, and they end up in his bed, clothing strewn everywhere.

“It’s alright,” he soothes when Bruce cries out with sensation, “keep going.”

For once in his life Bruce does as he’s told, hands holding his legs in place as he sinks deeper, head tipped back and mouth slack. He looks beautiful, feels perfect, and Alfred can’t help but pull him closer still. Can’t help but be demanding, one hand tangling in Bruce’s thick hair to draw him down for a kiss, while the other finds his own aching erection.

Bruce is too far gone to help, hips snapping forcefully, and Alfred snarls out encouragement. Begs him not to stop, not to let up, and he can feel how close Bruce is to tipping over the edge, even as the younger man’s control slips completely, his voice a scratchy mess as he apologizes that he can’t last, that he can’t wait any longer.

“I’m sorry,” Bruce pants, even as Alfred gives into his own peak, “I’m so very sorry.”

This isn’t right, Alfred knew that going in. This won’t be something they can sweep under the carpet. He presses a chaste kiss to Bruce’s sweat damp temple all the same, and hugs him close the way he used to do when things between them were simple.

“I’m not sorry,” is all he says, “you shouldn’t be either.”

If Bruce can believe it, maybe one day he will too.


End file.
